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“Thank you, Lexie. That’s so kind of you to say.” She scoops another helping onto my plate.
“So, how’s our boy’s arm doing?” Carter’s dad speaks for the first time since we all entered the room.
“We’ve only just begun working together so it’s hard for me to determine exactly where he’s at.” I’m lying to them about enough. I don’t want to add to the list if I don’t have to. “I will say that I’ve seen much worse, and they have been able to come through to the other side. I have no doubt that with some intense therapy, we could have him back on the field for preseason training.”
“No way,” Carter argues. “Everyone says start of next season at the earliest.”
“I’m not everyone.”
“Sounds promising,” Mrs. Wallace says.
“It is. I assure you, I am going to do everything in my power to get Carter to where he needs to be.” My eyes bore into his. I may be speaking about football, but there is so much more behind the words.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to poor Carter,” Cody says as he rolls his eyes.
The lack of empathy for all the struggles his brother has been through astounds me. He can’t possibly not feel… something about what his brother has had to endure. The way he reacts to Carter is so strange to me, so much different than when Carter isn’t in the picture, which leads me to believe it must be a jealousy thing.
Thankfully, Carter ignores the statement, and I attempt to assist by steering the conversation to cooking and recipes with Mrs. Wallace.
It’s a long, awkward dinner, and I almost exhale the internal sigh of relief I feel when it ends. Mrs. Wallace moves to clean up the table, but I stop her.
“Please, you’re being so kind to me. Let me handle the dishes.” We’re practically playing a tug-of-war game with the dishes, waging a war, when Carter steps in.
“Let go, Mom. We’ve got it.”
“Fine, I give up.” She releases the plates to me with a smile. “Make sure you help, too, Cody.”
I take the dishes to the sink and begin to wash them. Carter joins me a moment later.
“I don’t need your help,” I tell him.
“Considering you don’t know where the dishes go, I’d say you do.”
“What’s the deal with you and Cody?” I pry, hoping the question will either get me answers or get him to leave me alone. Frankly, I’m good with either option.
“He’s not who he appears to be,” he says flatly.
“What do you mean by that?”
Carter presses his hand on the counter and faces me.
“I mean, Cody is trouble. I know he seems cool and fun, and I’m sure somewhere deep down he’s still the great guy I grew up with but...”
“But what?” I ask, sensing the pain in Carter’s voice.
“Isn’t this cozy,” Cody says as he joins us.
“Go away, Cody,” Carter tells him.
“Why? Am I interrupting your fun with the coach’s daughter?” he taunts.
“What I do and with whom is none of your fucking business,” Carter tells him.
“Maybe not, but I’m sure Coach Masterson would like to know.”
“Try me, Cody. Fucking try me.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
